


From the Mist

by Clades



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Kink, Canon-Typical Violence, Fear Play, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Leather Kink, Multi, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Horror, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader-Insert, Scent Kink, Stabbing, Stalking, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27113884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clades/pseuds/Clades
Summary: In the fog, all sorts of terrors lurk...Soon enough, they'll emerge- and they'll come for you(Drabble/Request Writing Compilation for DbD/Horror characters)
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Reader, Danny 'Jed Olsen' Johnson | The Ghost Face/Pyramid Head (Silent Hill)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	1. Funny Games (The GhostFace/Stalker!Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of writing and prompt requests, most are reader centric or kept vague enough for self inserts, but there's a few pairing in here! Feel free to request more at @KingLaeos on Twitter/Curious Cat, or just stop by and say hello!

Q: Pre-entity/DBD Ghostface playing cat and mouse with an equally (or more) obsessive stalker?

///

Memorizing a schedule wasn’t hard. Danny rather enjoyed it, perhaps too much...

Knowing every last detail of his target’s day was an unmitigated intimacy that few coworkers, friends, or even lovers were afforded. Some nights, the sheer knowledge that he had of his preferred prey’s life and habits made him shudder, skin prickling with delight that all he had to do was close his eyes and visualize exactly where they were-

People were predictable. In some ways, Danny was as well. His slow and steady tactic of watching from afar never lasted. The man could never resist closing the distance, getting closer and closer...

Donning his gear was a ritualistic practice that made his blood hum with excitement. He had no intent to cut down his current obsession that night, the need for disguise was rather moot- but slipping into his leathers was decidedly worth it. The pleasure of the cool but thick material made him swallow thickly, shifting his thighs in an attempt to alleviate the dull throb between his legs. 

Conceding excitement was never his strong suit, not that he even bothered once the mask slid into place.

He had been careful. No car. He had parked some distance off, walked the rest of the way on foot with a duffle slung over his shoulder. Danny Johnson slunk behind an empty house, and The Ghostface crept out a few minutes later. 

On top of being careful, he had been opportunistic. His target had picked up an extra shift at work, something that would keep them occupied for hours, and Danny had eagerly awaited all week. It was late enough in the night that it didn’t conflict with his day job- and the cover of night in the sleepy neighborhood made what he was going to do considerably easier. 

The masked killer slipped in through a back window that’s lock had long stopped working, perverse joy surging through his entire body at the prospect of getting to take advantage of such an oversight he identified immediately while casing the place weeks ago. They were practically begging for him to come in, with such flimsy security.

Moving with utmost caution to not disturb the home he had entered, Danny proceeded directly to his goal. He couldn’t resist, not after all the waiting games, he played with himself-

A bedroom door creaked open, and Ghostface nearly ruined his pants- knees threatening to buckle from the surge of a searing pleasure that threatened to push him over the edge. His obsession’s scent hung heavy, lacing the air that the raspy inhale through the mask wasn’t enough. 

Ripping the mask off and tossing it onto the bed, Danny breathed with the desperation of a man starved. He had only caught the smell in passing, a muted and muddled combination of laundry detergent, shampoo, and a natural, unique odor somewhere underneath. 

Standing still as a statue, it took a moment for his mind to kick into gear. Fishing out the small camera he had brought along, Danny immediately snapped a picture of the ghoulish white mask staring up at his lens from the bedspread- a tableau that could feed into countless fantasies later. He then quickly snapped a quick succession of pictures to document the inside of the bedroom. 

Only when he was satisfied did he tuck the camera away, his attention solely on a dresser situated in the corner of the room. It was best to clear out long before his target returned, but it wouldn’t hurt to leave without a memento. 

Gloved fingers delicately pulled open a drawer, revealing folded shirts and other articles of clothing. He ghosted his fingers over the fabrics, before moving to the next drawer. Socks, in a mismatched and balled up tangle, greeted him. Shifting lower to a crouch, he opened the lowest drawer.

Biting his tongue, the low groan that rumbled from his chest broke the perfect silence within the dark house. Underwear, all neatly arranged filled the compartment. His first urge was to swipe something from the laundry basket, but he didn’t want any missing items to be noticed, not yet. Instead, he slowly eased his fingers to the very bottom of the pile, feeling for something he could swipe that wouldn’t be missed. 

Danny’s fingers had just curled around his prize and were tugging it out from beneath all the rest when his palm passed over something stiff. Curiosity peaking, he quickly released the underwear in favor of seizing the mystery object. 

Raising it for appraisal, the small unassuming black box nearly fit in the palm of his hand. It almost looked like a makeup box, the flat clamshell lid flipping open with a bit of pressure from his thumbs. 

Polaroids. He didn’t know how many, but the stacks were neatly kept together by a thick rubber band, all stashed in some secret box, which was hidden among underwear. Sadistic glee made Danny’s throat tighten and fingers twitch, imagination running wild with what his obsession had made an effort to hide. 

Maybe an old romance gone wrong that they couldn’t let go of, or a series of scantly clad self-portraits, or maybe- 

Unable to resist, taking the stack of pictures in hand- Danny pulled the rubber band free and began shuffling through the pictures one by one. 

The first ten were unimaginably dull. Out of focus pictures of flowers, poorly composed landscape shots- he was nearly prepared to toss the entire set away and be done with it. If the first ten were amateur photography, that’s what the next hundred would be, right? 

Decidedly, he was wrong. Upon pulling the next printed photo from the dense deck after an uninspired picture of a road sign, Danny Johnson was shocked to find himself staring back at himself. 

Or, staring somewhere past the camera, clearly focused on something else. In broad daylight. 

He nearly dropped the stack of photos as if it had bitten him, but after the first stab of shock, a strange sense of dread washed over his senses. He moved to the next photo, the next one, and the one after that. The more he shuffled through the endless stream of pictures of HIM, the more his head began to spin. 

All of the photos were rather innocent, shots of his face, of his figure from behind, across a cafe, coming out of work-

They knew where he worked. Danny’s entire brand of self-projected identity was being a boring, well-meaning but ultimately forgettable face in a crowd. It had been the crux of his crime spree, being able to slice up the town and still be counted among the sea of horrified townies that didn’t want to be gutted by the faceless demon terrorizing them…

If they had been following him, photographing him-

He tore through the rest of the pile, frantic to find a damning piece of evidence. Pictures were passed over, all blurring together. The collection was extensive, the sheer magnitude of photos making up for the limited span of time they were taken over, if he had to hazard a guess it all had been accumulated over a month or so-

Danny’s body sagged in relief when he reached the final Polaroid, a botched shot that only had inky black to display. Probably was shoved in by accident. A hand smoothed over the back of his neck, wiping away cold sweat. This was a problem. A very gratifying, arousing dreamlike problem. 

An obsessed obsession, huh?

He’d have to do something about his little stalker- his mind went in circles thinking of what to do as he gathered up the scattered photos, moving on autopilot.

Mid thought, he froze. A grey smudge caught his eye in the dark nothingness of the final picture as he was moving to slide it to the bottom of the stack. Raising the picture, scrutinizing it. The longer he looked, the better he could make out a hazy dark silhouette against the black background. Eyes traveling to the faint lighter smudge, he made out two dark circles accompanied by a long, inhuman caricature of an open screaming mouth. A mask. His mask. 

The sound of a front door opening, then clicking shut rang in his ears. 

Someone came home early.


	2. Executed Plan (Pyramid Head/The Ghostface)

Squatting low, the Ghostface kept his distance from the fray. Some new freak had been dropped in, and it was clear that the killers roaming listlessly between trials had been disrupted by the new face, fear, confusion, and anger palpable in the air. 

Danny hadn’t personally gotten a peak before the chaos unfolded, but he had been tempted to slink closer to investigate- a plan that was decidedly put on hold when the terrified braying of Leatherface rang clear across the thicket. The big guy tended to keep to himself, and strangers scared the crap out of the hulking man. That alone wouldn’t have given him pause, but the deafening screech of metal followed by a foul wet series of squelches, and finally a gurgling, choked whimper stopped him dead in his tracks.

Ghostface immediately tensed, body coiled tight and low when the clear sound of something dragging reached his ears. Heavy, long and drawn out scrapping cut through the earth, the occasional rock or branch shrieking in protest against the heavy force. 

He could go unnoticed by most, his ability to slip into the shadows was unmatched- but Danny had no clue what he had to contend with. His fingers twitched desperate to move to his knife, but he remained still. 

Finally, the unfamiliar silhouette broke through the tree line, and despite the lack of clear light to size up every detail of the figure...

Danny swallowed thickly, throat dry. The thing was massive, absolutely enormous- nearly as broad as it was tall, possessing a masculine torso that was sinews and built. Some heavy contraption rested on its shoulders, the metal construction obscuring whatever face it might have, or maybe that was its face... Danny’s mind rushed with possibilities, questions-

It had stopped. Reflexively the man held his breath, unsure if somehow the fiend had sensed him. It was difficult to tell, with that giant geometric head seemingly staring only ahead deeper into the woods...nothing was out there but-

Oh.

The little camp the survivors huddled around. It was probably a mile off at least, but it was dead in that direction. It was next to impossible to actually find the camp, some cosmic force always turning any wandering killer around- but the distant glow of a fire could be spotted if one navigated slowly, carefully enough... Ghostface had tried a few too many times to admit, the twisting urge in his stomach to get a pic or two of his favorites resting, blissfully unaware of someone watching them... the fantasy made a chill race up his spine, unabashedly shuddering. 

What did the triangle fucker want from the survivors then?

Now Danny was really interested, chewing through his bottom lip thinking too fast to sort his errant thoughts. He’d have to do what he did best...

Watch.

[....]

Waiting around was Danny’s thing. Watching, with predatory eyes and wicked intent that matched- it came naturally. He could wait for weeks, months, years If it was what he wanted. 

Wanting was a whole other matter to someone who did not particularly enjoy being denied. A struggle, refusal, a chase even- that was all enjoyable.

but being outright barred from what he wanted? 

Not allowed.

He was rather skilled at getting his way. Either as Danny Johnson, Jed Olsen, or The Ghostface. The layers were muddled, drenched in the same narcissistic need for fulfilling every base desire and lingering, filthy obsession.

His intent to watch the new monstrosity had bloomed into want. He wanted to know more, he wanted to see just what it could do-

And he had been denied.

Danny had almost been content to fume when the figure he stalked was called upon by the entity several times in a row, vanishing into the abyss with no way for him to follow. It was irritating. Maddening.

As a result, he got careless. 

When Danny had next spotted the figure, he had intel. The Executioner, or so the survivors had called it. The blade wasn’t just for show either, the thing’s strength was only second to its single-minded determination to capture it’s chosen quarry.

He watched from behind the cover of a tree’s dense trunk, head peeking out. The Executioner was turned the other way, chest heaving. Danny had been confident that he could get closer...

He hadn’t even stepped around the tree to close the distance before a creaking groan echoed through the thicket. His stomach twisted in fear. The figure only a few yards off was still facing the opposite direction. Danny let out a shaky exhale, relief flooding every inch of his body.

That’s when the earth split beneath his feet. He couldn’t even follow what happened, the glint of a rusty blade plunging into the forest floor- 

The agony that followed eclipsed the shock. Constrictive wire that moved with a will entirely of its own ensnared him- It had slithered around his legs first, only creeping higher. Around his waist, then his chest- when the barbed metal swarmed his neck, a ragged scream finally freed itself from his straining lungs.

Danny kicked and fought against the binds. In his efforts, he failed to notice the predator that was closing in- Not until it stood close enough that he could feel the unnatural heat that radiated off the killer.

Sweat- or was it blood? Something trickled down his face, the only reprieve from the searing fire that filled the air. Another deep, rattling sound from The Executioner made Danny cringe away, his wounds tearing further. 

It’s heavy panting sounded obscene, the hot breath hissing like steam through the gaps in the massive metal mask. 

It was watching him with undivided attention. 

Danny wished desperately to himself that the thing would get it over with. Crush his skull or rip him to pieces, just let him go-

Too bad, we don’t always get what we want~


	3. Daydreamin' (The Ghostface/Victim!Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghostface is his own CW but-
> 
> Content warning for fantasized victim violence/death/noncon

Q: req- dbd ghostface getting obsessive and fantasizing and planning out how he will kill his next victim :D

///

It wasn’t fair. 

Danny Johnson rolled over on his side, before pressing his face into the pillow. Every time he closed his eyes, gruesome terror and visceral images flashed in an endless slideshow of blood, guts, and gore. 

He couldn’t sleep-

Not when slick arousal kept his nerves buzzing like a live wire. 

It wasn’t fair at all. 

Smoothing a hand over the smooth plane of his stomach, his fingers traced lazy patterns as he considered the possibilities.

The Ghostface had found a new favorite. a mark that was a living love letter just for him, one that Danny wanted to tear open and hold to his chest like the lovesick idiot he was. 

Sure, he was a bit of a romantic sap, so what? Love, at first sight, was a boring and cliche trope, but... this one had gotten under his skin and all he could think about was how he’d return the favor-

His skin prickled under his touch at the idea. They were perfect, and they were all his- 

They just didn’t know it yet.

Turning over to lay flat on his back, Danny exhaled deeply. Allowing dark eyelashes to flutter closed, he allowed himself to be plunged into the carnage his imagination presented.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly about how’d their bloody sex would taste. Would they still have a pulse? Excitement tore through him, the question echoing in their mind. A smear of viscera and body fluids, just imagining the smell made his mouth water. He’d inhale deeply, covetously- 

Danny’s eyes snapped open.

It wouldn’t be tonight- he didn’t want to cut to the chase just yet. But, a vision had formed.

An idea.

He’d have his ravenous fill, record it all too- the press would force the public to witness the horrors of his fatalistic romantic gestures. The camera lens would capture it all, as he plunged himself into his lover- then his knife square through their chest-

Over and over and over-

Danny groaned, head falling back against the pillow as he arched against the mattress. He was on fire, his skin, blood, and very bones screamed with the hunger for it all- for the violence of the act, for the passion of it, for his obsession...

He could hardly wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a request? Ask away- https://curiouscat.qa/KingLaeos

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi @KingLaeos on Twitter!


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